Ray of Light
by KatTheElf
Summary: How Astoria and Draco meet and change each other's lives. Rated M for some language and non-explicit sexual content.
1. Chapter I: Ever Since That Day

Chapter I: Ever Since That Day

Light seared Astoria's eyes as her consciousness was greeted with the familiar sensations of headache, dizziness, and nausea. Haziness flooded her vision like dark fingerprints edging the limits of her sight as it fully returned to her. And when it finally did, her heart wrenched in a panic. She knew not where she was.

Based on what she saw above, she could have been inside of a tent. However, upon springing into a sitting position, she realized that she was lying in a bed—a strange bed with silk sheets and a canopy. And as she blinked in her surroundings, her train of thought leaned towards the lines of a palace, and a pleasant but unfamiliar scent threatened to intoxicate her.

"Oh, dear God," she whispered to herself.

"Are you alright?"

"Aaah!" she squealed, startled by the male voice that had approached from behind.

She tightly clutched the covers to her chest as she dared to eye her apprehender. When she did, she gasped, thinking for a moment that she may have died.

White hair. Alabaster skin. Silvery eyes. Slender features. An angel!

But that was only for a moment. The moment before she remembered where she had been before awakening and finding herself in the all-too-present predicament.

She was at the New Year's Eve party at Malfoy Manor. She had not wanted to go, but her parents finally managed to drag her along. She had resented every moment that she had spent silently pouting on the velvety sofa, her ears assaulted by all the high-standing purebloods voicing their concerns about the future. Her parents did not even want her there for her presence. The fact was that she was an embarrassment to the family name for, since the beginning of her sixth year at Hogwarts, she had built herself quite a reputation for being a thorn in the side of Slytherin house. If she had not come along, she would have only drawn more negative attention to herself, as any respectable pureblood would have been crazy to deny an invitation to Malfoy Manor.

Abashed by her own mental presumptions, she focused her attention downwards, stopping to take in the ring on one of the young man's slender fingers. The symbol of the emerald-eyed serpent. A member of Slytherin house, just like herself. No, the young man was most-definitely not an angel. But who was he?

"Am I okay?" Astoria finally responded. "Am I OKAY? I don't know. How about you start by telling me who you are and what I am doing in this bedroom!"

The young man's expression suddenly appeared as though she had just stricken him across the face. Astoria slipped out from beneath the covers before him and commenced the task of furiously smoothing out the skirts of her disheveled gown.

"Well," he began, watching her with intense curiosity, "you had a nasty fall downstairs. I don't know exactly what was going on, but it appears you blacked out. I brought you up here where there is less noise."

Astoria nodded and sighed with relief as she straightened herself.

Suddenly, she felt quite ashamed.

"Thank you," she said apologetically.

"No problem," the young man responded, sounding as though he had accepted the unspoken apology.

Astoria remained standing as he sat down on the edge of the bed, both struggling to avoid eye contact.

"Well," Astoria finally broke into the silence, "I don't want to make you feel obligated to stay here, so I'm going back downstairs."

"Alright, but I'm probably just going to stay here regardless—at least for a while. Crowds really aren't my thing," the young man replied, still not meeting her gaze.

Astoria cocked her head.

"Really? I don't . . . care much for crowds either."

Grey met brown as they locked eyes, trying as they might to figure the other out.

"In fact," Astoria continued, taking the spot on the bed next to the young man, "I didn't even want to come here tonight. My parents wanted me to come. And, as I didn't have any other plans, I finally obliged."

The young man smiled, staring dreamily at the wall.

"I completely understand," he agreed. "People can be so difficult to trust—especially the types of people who come to events like this."

"Exactly! Even my parents. They're just trying to save face, as my muggle-friendly beliefs have become quite the mark upon my family's reputation."

It didn't take long for her to recognize her mistake.

"Umm—I mean—I'm sorry. I should probably leave," she said as she started for the door.

"Why?"

Astoria turned around. The young man was still staring at the wall. She could hardly read his expression but was perplexed by his lack of apparent disdain.

"Well, it was stupid of me to assume that you would agree with me."

"Did you?" the young man replied. "Truth be told, I could care less, but that's no reason for you to feel like you have to leave."

Astoria smiled shyly. Relieved, she slid easily back into her spot on the bed.

"So, if I'm staying in your company," she started, "I might as well give you my name. It's Astoria—Astoria Greengrass."

The young man studied her.

"Daphne's sister?"

"Yes."

"Hmm . . . You don't look anything alike."

It was true. Astoria and her sister had very little in common, save their surname . . . and their parents, of course. Daphne was tall and blonde with sea blue eyes, while Astoria was shorter and slighter with thick brown hair and dark brown eyes. Daphne's face was more plain and oval shaped with a long, pale nose, while Astoria had a far more pronounced chin, delicately topped with pert, mulberry lips.

Astoria chuckled, "Actually, I get that a lot."

The young man nodded, not knowing what he should say next, and cursing himself for it.

 _Damn it! What's wrong with you? It's not like you've never spoken to a woman before. And you haven't scared this one off yet. Who knows? She just might like you._

"Well," Astoria broke into the silence, "aren't you going to tell me your name?"

The young man sighed audibly, and, for a moment, he appeared as though he may just evade the question.

"It's Draco," he finally revealed as though his name were a possession to be rid of, "Draco Malfoy."

Astoria's eyes widened.

 _Of course, he's a Malfoy, Stupid! Just look at him!_

"You've probably heard a lot about me," he continued. "I will admit that a lot of it is true. However, a lot of it is complete bullshit. If I make you uncomfortable, feel free to leave. I won't blame you if you do."

Astoria noted a sudden sadness in the grey eyes that met hers. And yet, she couldn't help but take note of their softness—so like goose down.

Instead of leaving, she spoke, "You are a lot different than I thought you would be."

Draco's ears perked at the intriguing prospect.

"Really? How different?"

"I don't know," she nervously chuckled. "Just different. I mean, I never thought I would find myself sitting on your bed and completely unharmed."

Again, Astoria noticed her mistake immediately after her words left her tongue.

"Oh no—" she struggled to explain to Draco, who had fallen back into a fit of laughter. "I didn't mean it that way!"

Frozen in her own embarrassment, Astoria simply watched Draco roil in laughter. Soon, however, the situation became so absurd that she found herself following suit.

"You know," Draco released with his first caught breath, "this is the first time I have laughed in quite a while."

Astoria turned her head on the mattress to find the grey eyes glowing in a way that grey eyes should not have been able to glow. The sight was so glorious, she was sure her heart had become a candle and the glow she was seeing was but a reflection of that light.

"That's terrible," she voiced at barely more than a whisper.

"Not so terrible," came to her surprise. "I think it's made me appreciate just how good it feels to laugh."

FFFFFFFFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

The two leapt to the floor, startled. Out the balcony windows, they saw the reason for their momentary distress.

"Do you want to see the fireworks?" Draco offered.

Astoria nodded with a smile as he led her out the doors to the balcony.

They were greeted by the chill of the bitter winter as wondrous shapes formed overhead. Dragons flew gracefully on atomic orange wings. Broomsticks with no pilots whizzed joyfully by. "Happy New Year! 2000" sizzled in caustic green.

"Well, I guess it's not 1999 anymore," Astoria mused.

"I suppose you're right," Draco returned.

He jumped, noticing Astoria's hand meeting his on the railing. The two turned to stare at each other, the show from above dancing on their faces.

"I suppose you'll want to go find your boyfriend now."

Astoria shook her head.

"No. I don't have a boyfriend."

They continued staring at each other as more pops, fizzes, and bursts of light rose into the wintry sky. White vapor wafted from their nostrils and flitted into the atmosphere.

Draco thought about leaning in and surprising the beauty before him. Had he more courage, he probably would have. Her lips looked so ripe—so delicious! And her eyes were so pleading. Nonetheless, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous.

"Umm . . . er . . . Since we don't have anyone to kiss right now, we could—we could—"

Right then, he mistook another soaring light as an explosion in his chest, for that woman had wrapped her arms around his waist. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, he pulled her tighter, her cheek pressed against his chest. He could no longer hear the fireworks, and he did not care. For all he knew, he could have gone deaf within the previous few minutes.

Warmth filled Astoria, starting with her nostrils, as she discovered the source of the wonderful, unfamiliar scent.

* * *

Author note: I know I said that I was taking a hiatus from writing fanfiction, but I just can't help it. Also, in case you do not recognize the title, it is the same as a song from my favourite anime, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. This is not exactly a songfic, but I am using the song to help guide me as I write these chapters, especially as I feel it the song was somehow written for Draco.

Also, in case you saw this story previously posted, you are not experiencing deja vu. I made the mistake of posting before it was ready. Though I reserve the right to edit/revise at any time, I believe this chapter is readable as is.


	2. Chapter II: I Decided to Never Cry Again

Chapter II: I Decided to Never Cry Again

"Well, good morning my lovely party animal of a sister!"

Astoria rubbed her eyes as she sat down at the breakfast nook, opposite Daphne Greengrass, Astoria's only sibling.

"Oh, good morning, Daphne," she yawned as she pulled up the newspaper.

Daphne eyed her sister intently as she began thumbing through the pages. When no attention was afforded to her, she sighed exaggeratedly. When Astoria still paid her no mind, she furrowed her brow and spat, "Well, I suppose I know how much you care about the situation."

Astoria furrowed her brow in return, peering incredulously over a fidgeting photo of the Minister of Magic.

"What situation?"

Daphne opened her mouth as though about to utter something in anger, but then decided against it and instead curled her lips upward into a catlike grin.

"Oh, that's right!" she teased. "You weren't there when the announcement was made. You thought it wiser to spend your time . . . elsewhere."

Astoria, already privy to the significance of her sister's tone, buried her face back inside the pages of _The Daily Prophet._ But it was all for naught, as she soon felt her hair being roughly tousled and her head being violently rocked side-to-side.

"Awww! Wittle Astoria finally redeems herself by spending the night in the boudoir of a pureblood prince—and even before she's graduated from Hogwarts."

She released Astoria's cranium from her grip of death with a final nudge.

"I am so proud of you, Sis. Tell me: Is he as good as they say he is? I've heard he can be quite rough, but that just means he really wants you."

"Quit it, Daphne!" Astoria warned.

But Daphne did not take the hint as she whispered her next words at her sister's ear.

"I do hope he didn't hurt you too badly when he spread those prudish legs of yours—"

"SHUT UP! HE'S NOT LIKE THAT!"

The newspaper flittered to the floor, the minister's smiling face still beaming from the front page.

The air between the two sisters became so thick it would have been a wonder if either could speak loudly enough to be heard by the other.

Daphne stood appearing emotionless but rather impressed by her sister's fury. Astoria, who had leapt from her chair, appeared disgruntled but was greatly confused by her own outburst. Her blood pumped in her ears as though coaxing her to calm down.

"Well," Daphne hinted an ending to the conversation as she began to walk away, "I just thought you should know that Adrien proposed last night."

Astoria sighed, numb to the whole idea of her sister's engagement.

"Congratulations."

"Oh, and by the way, Astoria," Daphne advised, looking back one final time before rounding the corner.

"Yes?"

"Because you are my sister and I care about you very much, I think it would be wise not to get too close to Draco. He's already betrothed to Pansy Parkinson."

Finally, as Daphne's footsteps thudded dimly away, Astoria was alone.

She did not sit back down. She did not blink. She did not move at all.

Her heart stopped beating, and she knew not the reason.

All she knew was that she felt like screaming.

Astoria, however, did not scream.

She did not cry . . .


	3. Chapter III: Even if the Pain Piles Up

Chapter III: Even If the Pain Piles Up

"Honestly, I can't believe you! You were supposed to be with me last night. Me! _I'm_ your betrothed—not Daphne's wretched little sister!"

Draco shuddered, but not from the hands shoving angrily at his chest. Draco was convinced that if anything landed him in an insane asylum, it had to be Pansy's voice. She was a relentless cacophony of customized insults! . . . And even when he did not respond, did positively nothing to antagonize her, she consistently persisted in her shoving and screeching.

"We are to be wed, Draco Malfoy! It is I who will say 'I do'. It is I who will sleep in your bed. It is I who will give birth to your children and inherit your estate when you are dead and in the ground!"

It was at that moment that Draco decided he had had enough for one day. While he could have retaliated, and even felt greatly enticed to do so, he found that it would have only opened another can of worms. More fodder for her blind rage.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, you selfish whore of a man! I am your one and only!"

She followed him as he trudged down the stairs, worn out and utterly annoyed. He had already been fed the same lecture that very morning, though in a more subdued language, and from his parents.

It had unfolded at the table during breakfast.

"So, Draco," his father had begun, "whatever took place between you and that Greengrass girl last night is of little consequence. You must not let yourself become too infatuated. She may be pretty, but her reputation is not one we would want to be associated with this family."

"I understand," Draco replied, "but nothing happened. She passed out and I wanted to make sure she was alright."

Narcissa beamed with pride, turning her gaze between her son and husband.

"See, Lucius," she announced. "I told you that we raised a gentleman and that you were just overreacting. Nothing happened."

Draco blushed, distracting himself with a bite of his breakfast pastry.

Lucius smirked at his son, hardly convinced.

"Of course, nothing happened. You must make sure nothing ever happens. I'm sure people have already started talking . . . Draco, you must never see that girl again."

"Don't worry. I probably won't."

He repeated the same words to Pansy when she demanded the same thing.

"You are not to speak to her ever again!" she barked when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Draco turned to face her one last time.

"Don't worry. I probably won't."

As he disappeared into a shadowy wisp, Pansy stamped her foot with a frustrated groan.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU ASSHOLE!" she cried to the empty space where he had been standing.

Clenched fists still shaking uncontrollably at her sides, she kept her sights on that blank coordinate, hopeful that he may return at any moment. But the moments slipped away and only left her empty, just like the empty spot before her. Her fists loosened, her head hung in dismay, and, suddenly, she began to cry.

The more tears that fell, the tighter agony's grip on her became. Crying was not something that Pansy did all too often. In fact, it was foreign to her, and she felt almost as though she were being raped by her own emotions. She clutched at her chest, wondering if, perchance, she was just as broken outside as she was within.

Narcissa, having overheard the commotion, entered the parlour from the hallway.

"Pansy dear," she offered, laying a gentle hand on the younger woman's back, "would you like a cup of tea?"

Pansy's breath hitched as she struggled to retain a grasp on her senses. She brushed her arm across her eyes.

"No. Thank you," she emitted with her back still facing Narcissa. "I-I think I should be going now."

"I'll get your coat."

Narcissa wrapped her arm around Pansy's shoulder and led her to the entrance hall where, one arm at a time, she helped her into her jacket.

"Goodbye," Pansy managed through a weak smile as she stumbled out the door.

"Please, be careful going home," Narcissa advised with a slight wave.

Once down the stone steps of the front entrance, Pansy paused, staring down the frost-bitten path to the gate. Footprints were impressed within her mind, just as they had once been impressed across the winter snow. She remembered a young boy and a young girl, walking together up that same path so many years before. They used to tell each other things that no one else would ever know.

Pansy closed her eyes and took in the damp scent of the wintry earth surrounding her. The ground writhed with hidden life, so full of what she wished she had.

Oh, how she missed his arms around her, his lips violently pressed against hers as they melted into one. She longed to have his head on her lap as she ran her fingers through his sleek, white blond hair. Just like things used to be before he changed, and he belonged to her just as much as she belonged to him.

More than anything, Pansy longed to return to that summer after fifth year when Draco's father had been taken away, and Draco had needed her more than ever. Narcissa had invited her to stay, and Pansy could not refuse. In fact, it had been a dream come true. It was so perfect. And she was so ready.

Later that summer, under the light of the moon, she and Draco snuck out to the gazebo in the garden. It was there where Pansy surrendered herself completely to Draco. And he-he surrendered himself completely to her. It was on that night that she decided she would someday become his bride.

Back in the present, Pansy looked up to the sky, determined to reach through those clouds of bleak weather and to that hidden light that had once graced her life with joy.

As she blinked away her final tears and donned a smile of rekindled determination, she swore she would not give up. She would win him back one way or another.

Things would be restored to the way they once were and were meant to be.


	4. Chapter IV: That Was Something I Wouldn'

Chapter IV: That Was Something I Wouldn't Allow

Draco's throat burned as he cast back another shot of fire whiskey. He had been here before. Many a time. And he would stay here. And it would all disappear. All would be forgotten. Slowly. Until he swallowed his . . . very . . . last . . . drop.

Draco did not want to become an alcoholic. He had grown to despise that brand of behavior in his father. He wanted to place himself under a limit, but it was just so hard. He thought that each drink would drown away all his troubles, but then his thoughts would slip and his ears would be filled with the voice of that impossible woman all over again.

He groaned, slamming down his glass with vehement force.

The bartender turned and eyed him with irritation as he dried out the inside of a pewter mug.

"I don't care how much money you have, _Malfoy_ ," he spoke the name with dull emphasis. "If you break another of my shot glasses, I'll have you scrubbing toilets."

"Fuck off and bring me another," Draco ordered, flinging his jigger forward across the bar.

The barman furrowed his brow, absconding the empty jigger before returning with another.

Draco yawned and allowed his eyes to close for a moment—but only a moment. That cozy sensation of sweet delirium was beginning to take over his body, and he didn't want to pass out before it was over. Even his ears buzzed as though housing the energy generating that sweetness. Nevertheless, the same thoughts continued to repeat their selves over and over inside of his mind.

Betrothed. That was the word she liked to throw around. "We're _engaged,_ " he often reminded her.

Betrothed. She had never used that word until after the war. After he had begun to remind himself to pretend to care. After she changed. But had she really?

It was difficult to tell, but nearly impossible to believe that Pansy had always been so clingy. So moody. Such an insufferable nag!

Draco slammed down another shot, and the barman read his eyes' request for another.

Why did he not just dump her ass? That was yet another question he did not know how to answer. And he had a hard-enough time just trying to remember what it was he liked about her in the first place.

"Draco!"

The call of his name at his ear caught him by surprise, and thankfully, he corrected himself just before his elbow was dashed into the nose of his old friend, Blaise Zabini.

"Blaise! What the hell are you doing here?" Draco half-chuckled, indicating the stool at his right.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Blaise replied, sliding easily into the seat. "You here with Pansy?"

Draco turned back to his fresh shot and lifted it about an inch above the bar to swirl it around a few times, losing a bit of himself in the amber-coloured liquid.

"Draco," Blaise shook his head to his friend's lack of response, "what is—Why—I don't get it."

Draco turned to see Blaise staring at him with curiosity, and this stare made him rather uncomfortable.

"What is there to get?"

"You have a pureblood woman, who practically worships you—I mean, she came to you! You never even had to ask. Do you know how hard it is to find an actual pureblood woman these days? We're a dying breed, and it would be insanity to give one up when she's willing to serve herself up on a silver plate, if only to make you happy."

Draco shrugged, bringing another drink to his lips.

"So what is it?" Blaise asked when Draco did not respond. "Is it her looks? Because she's not bad looking either. She may not be a goddess, but she certainly is a queen."

Draco knew that to be true. Pansy was not anything like the witches he had seen in _Playwizard_ —the issues with which Marcus Flint had managed to sneak into Hogwarts-when he was younger. But he had decided that that was a good thing. Why would he want some potion-born clone? Pansy may not have had the most beautiful face with the most contoured features, but he adored her doe-like eyes and tiny button nose, which stood in stark contrast to his own pointed one. Her body, likewise, may not have been perfectly toned, but she was neither too skinny or fat. Her ass was small enough to fit in his hands and round enough to warrant attention. And though he never considered breasts before all else, he did consider Pansy's to be his favourite of all her features. They were C-cups—not huge, but more than enough. They were soft and supple, like little pillows. He loved caressing them, kissing them, pressing his face between them. And whether they were clothed or bare, he absolutely loved laying his head on them. Just thinking of them was enough to make Draco nearly choke on his drink.

"Whoa! Slow down," Blaise counseled, patting Draco roughly on the back.

"A—Another, please," Draco sputtered through a fit of coughs, teetering his glass between his thumb and pointer finger.

He was really feeling it now. The fresh burn running its course through his system. He could not get his mind off of Pansy. The furious expression on her face as she reprimanded him only hours before. He smirked as though she were standing right there before him. Merlin, she was hot when she was angry! He wanted her right now. No. He _needed_ her.

"Put the change on my tab," he slurred, placing his money down on the bar and getting up from his seat.

Blaise watched in amusement as his friend stumbled a few steps before disappearing into a black vapor.

* * *

AN: Sorry it has taken so long to post this. I am making this up as I go. :)


End file.
